


What Hides Beneath

by fivebyseven



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Anxiety Disorder, Background Demogorgon (Stranger Things), Bullying, Child Neglect, Depression, Don't Have to Know Canon, Eventual Romance, F/F, Grief/Mourning, Insecurity, Inspired by Stranger Things (TV 2016), Lies, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Minor Character Death, Mystery, Panic Attacks, Slow Burn, Slow To Update, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Survival, The Upside Down, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:54:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27859401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fivebyseven/pseuds/fivebyseven
Summary: Connor Murphy is furious. He's pacing and pondering what to do, that stupid letter the only thing on his mind. He's furious until the shadows in Ellison Park become sharp and dangerous and he's off, running to escape from something he doesn't understand.He doesn't make it out of the park, before he feels himself fall deep, as if he were falling through the Earth itself.Evan Hansen is mortified. His mind is stuck on that stupid letter and the news that Connor Murphy is suddenly missing doesn't help. Nor does the fact that the letter he wrote was taken as some sort of goodbye note from his parents. The lie doesn't come easy but telling the truth would just make everything worse, wouldn't it?Meanwhile, the lights in his house keep flickering in short, angry bursts.
Relationships: Alana Beck/Zoe Murphy, Evan Hansen/Connor Murphy, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter One - The Vanishing Of Connor Murphy

**The Vanishing of Connor Murphy**  
**1.**

  
The letter was the last strike. That goddamn letter had broken whatever flimsy pretence of calm he’d maintained after that morning’s blow up. It hadn’t been the most cruel or imaginative prank someone had pulled on him – not by a long shot – but it had been unexpected.

  
God, he’d thought Hansen was alright, if a little weird. He’d felt sorry – genuinely sorry – for pushing him and calling him a freak. 

  
Connor scoffed, thinking about the letter still in his car, throwing the cigarette to the ground and angrily stomping on it. He’d felt sorry. God, he couldn’t believe it. 

  
He paced, hugging himself tightly to fend off the occasional chill.  
After all, why shouldn’t he do it? What kept him there, trapped in the shit show that was his life? Who would miss the psycho, the freak, the ticking time bomb? Nobody, that’s who. They wouldn’t even find him probably because why... _why would they look for him?_

  
His throat got tight, breath rushing out all at once in a strangled sob. He sat against the nearest tree, knees to his chest and hands covering his face.

  
_Okay. Okay. So... he’d go. He’d go away. Leave them some space to heal from the damage he must’ve caused them. Fuck. Fuck, okay. He’d **go.**_

  
It took him a while to stand up again, rubbing his eyes and breathing deeply once, twice, enough to loosen the tension. There’s a particular kind of not-quite-calm, not-quite-panicking feeling that comes with the knowledge you’re going to die soon, he thought. His fingers shook ever so slightly and his mind went a mile a minute but a cold, detached feeling was washing over him, in slow, gentle waves.

  
_Pills in the cabinet in his parents’ bathroom._  
_Enough to get the job done, surely._

  
He walked briskly towards the car, near the entrance to the Park, shoving his hands in the pocket of his jacket and balling them into fists. He began to feel unsettled, walking under the majestic trees Ellison Park was so proud of, like he were being watched. Haunted, more like.

He wondered if it was his choice, a last resort of his mind to try and push him to survive the night. But no, no, that feeling wasn’t pushing him to safety rather it was making him wish for the pills sooner because there was something, shadowing him like a ghost, hiding in the darkness and announcing his presence with soft, obscure sounds. Something he’d rather not see.

  
He walked faster, turning around once to see the ominous figure walking behind him. He turned, breathing heavily, and started running, praying the darkness would be enough to shield him. 

  
It wasn’t.

  
He’d barely reached the entrance, the lampposts’ shining light, gentle and promising, just a few feet away when he felt himself slip.

  
The lamppost flickered once, twice, and stopped, its light steady. 

  
As if nothing had happened.

**2.**

  
The news hadn’t struck yet, when Evan walked into school. It was an ordinary morning, just as troubling and anxiety inducing as the others had been. It didn’t take long, for that to change.

  
Specifically, it took 2 hours and 36 minutes before it begun.

  
In those 2 hours and 36 minutes he’d gone to his first and second classes, English and Math respectively, eaten half a energy bar and hid in the bathroom twice, with his hands pressed against his stomach and breathing heavily.

  
Then, the news.  
From Jared, of all people.

  
His family friend had come into their class late, sat down in the seat next to him and leaned over, eyes twinkling with barely concealed mirth, only to whisper: “Murphy is missing!” 

  
Evan had turned to look at him, eyebrows raised and hands already shaking: “What? What are you talking about?"

  
“The psycho’s missing! They can’t find him!”

  
“Where. Um. Where- where did you hear that?” He’d answered, ready to ignore his friend’s attempt at spreading rumours. 

  
But he wouldn’t have anxiety if, at the same time, his mind hadn’t been spinning with _what ifs_ followed by terrible, convoluted ideas. 

  
“His parents are here, I passed them near the entrance. His mom was losing it.”

  
His heart started to beat faster, sweat covering his hands, at the memory of the stolen letter and the dark look in Connor’s eyes the previous day. It had looked familiar, Evan guessed, way too familiar for his peace of mind. 

  
_So what if? What if his instinct had been right? What if Connor Murphy was dead, lying in a ditch somewhere? Or floating in the river near the abandoned Orchard at the edge of town?_

  
He could feel bile rising up, the foul taste coating his mouth.

  
_What if he could’ve stopped it?_  
_But he hadn’t because Evan was nothing if not a spineless asshole who could do nothing right, especially when it involved saving the life of someone he’d known since first grade and whose family was probably breaking under the grief and-_

_  
_ “Dude?” his eyes focused on Jared’s face once again and he swore he could see concern, just a glimpse, before his friend – family friend – laughed, “Oh my God, are you actually concerned? Chill, he’s probably run away to follow his emo dreams. What, do you have a crush on him too? Is that it? You’ve got a Murphy kink, is that it?”

  
Evan choked on his spit.

“What? No! Why would you say that I’m not-“

  
“Whatever, just spare me the details.” Jared laughed and turned away, eyes on the board in front of him.

  
Evan sighed, hands closing into fists, and looked out of the window.  
For a moment, he swore he could hear the echoing sounds of someone sobbing loudly, unimaginable grief in every breath they took.

  
He was called in the principal’s office at the end of the class and he froze, eyes scanning the crowd and meeting Jared’s amused eyes.

 _‘Think it’s about the sex letter?’_ he mouthed, smirking.

  
Or maybe he’d said something else, maybe it had been Evan’s mind that had twisted his words. It wasn’t like it would’ve been the first time. His mind had made an habit of making the gentlest of remarks become awful and turn the most offensive insults into jokes.  
It wasn’t about his sex letter.  
Well. It kind of was, just not in the way they’d expected – _and why was he calling it sex letter anyway?_

  
The walk toward the office had felt like a death sentence, every step heavier than the previous one. Upon entering he’d found the Murphys, or he supposed they were the Murphys from the strong resemblance, sitting on the small couch the principal kept in his office.  
His heart sunk: Connor’s mom really did look as if her world had ended.

  
“We’re,” the man cleared his throat, “We are Connor’s parents.”

  
It begun.

**3.**

  
Alana stood still, dead silent, in the hallway near the stairs. Her father, one of them at least, stood in the doorway to his office, swearing profusely at someone on his phone.

  
She’d always been curious about his job, a topic never discussed but always hanging on their heads in the form of heavy silences and frustrated sighs. It hadn’t been until the previous year that she’d actively started to try understand it, though, when the school’s activities had proven themselves to be boring and not at all satisfying.  
She was an overachiever, she’d always known that and, as such, her need to be constantly in motion had brought her to that moment, just a few months before, where she’d started looking for the truth and found something she hadn’t been ready for.

  
The shock hadn’t been the secrecy or the government for that matter. No, Alana had always known it had to be something big, for her father to treat something as simple as his job as a secret. Rather, what she’d read in his office had left her reeling simply because of a few words, black on white and clear as day:

  
**'Subjects 011 and 008 passed today due to an unnamed illness in their cells, 07/12/2015.'**

  
From that moment, only one question had been burning in her. 

  
_Where those numbers, those ‘subjects’, human?_

  
Or, more accurately,

  
_Had they been human? And why would her father experiment on anyone, animal or human, when he’d always told her he was ‘a Physicist, darling, nothing more’?_

  
She didn’t want to suspect her father, and she didn’t to be honest, but there would always be doubt in her mind if she didn’t get to the bottom of it and she didn’t think she could live with it.  
She had thought about asking him, at first, but then she’d feared he might lie and that would’ve just made that little doubt grow into something real. Other than the embarrassment of admitting she’d looked into his office, something she hadn’t done since she was 5 years old and looking for something else to draw on. 

  
Alana breathed in sharply, a hand coming up immediately to cover her mouth, when her father left out a particularly colourful string of expletives followed by a groan.

  
“It broke? Are you sure?”

  
Her fingers twisted the hem of her shirt and she stood straighter, a wave of nervous anticipation rushing through her.

  
“It’s out... you’re telling me one of those things is definitely out...” he took in a deep breath and, when he spoke next, Alana could hear fear dripping from every word, “Keep an eye out. For anything. Yes... I want to know what everyone’s doing all the time in this goddamn town. No. If someone’s missing, you tell me I don’t care if they went to take a piss or something. You tell me anyway.”

  
She almost gasped when she heard him start walking towards her and quietly slipped away, down the corridor and into her room. She had just the time to sit on her bed, overwhelmed, when he opened the door and smiled gently at her. She forced herself to smile back.

  
“Al, darling, I’ve been called into work. Will you be alright here until Papa comes home?” he said, affectionately.

  
“Sure,” she shifted uncomfortably, “Everything alright?”

  
“Of course, love. It’s very sweet of you to worry but there’s no need, we’ve got it under control. If I’m not home for dinner tell Papa he better save me some pizza, yeah?” 

  
Alana laughed, relaxing.  
“Yeah. I make no promises, you know how he is.”

  
“I sure do. Bye, Al, see you tonight.” 

  
“Bye, dad.”

  
He smiled before leaving and she felt her chest constrict, affection blooming inside of her and clashing with the shadow of suspicious that had been cast over him.

  
Alone, with nothing but ugly doubts swimming through her head, Alana followed his figure from her window. 

  
Out of the door, into the car, away from home. 


	2. Chapter Two - The Storyteller

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lie starts. Alana becomes more suspicious of her father's work as a "physicist". Meanwhile, in the Upside Down, Connor hears some interesting things.

**The Storyteller**   
**1.**

He didn’t mean to lie, not at first. It happened slowly. Painfully. Words ripped from his throat and left to hang heavily in the air that still smelled of desperation and grief and heart-breaking hope. 

  
_They were destroyed, you see_ , Evan imagined he’d say if someone asked.

  
_They were destroyed and if he could give them just a little bit of solace. If he could give them the hope that no, their son hadn’t been completely alone. That yes, someone besides them would see the hole he left behind and cry. That someone besides them would see that there was a hole at all._

  
_Then... why not?_

  
It was immoral and wrong and all kind of wrong but the words had been said, he’d dug his grave in a moment of blinding anxiety and now he just had to go along with it. The consequences of saying the truth would hurt them all, at that point.

  
_Wouldn’t they?_

  
The dinner went well, despite the initial fight. It seemed like as soon as the word ‘Connor’ left his lips they’d all abandoned their anger to listen. The Murphys looked starved, hungry for any kind of information about their son. Zoe, on the other hand, just looked angry and betrayed and overwhelmed. It didn’t stop her from listening intently, drinking in every word.  
It almost made him uncomfortable, that anger and pain, love and hate battling inside her.

  
They were a complex family, that was for sure.

  
He returned home at 9pm, feeling light and heavy at the same time. The doubts that had plagued him during the day were still there, whispering malicious things in his ears, and it turned ten times stronger as soon as he was alone. His mom wouldn’t be home for a while, if she got home at all. That didn’t make him feel better but then, did he have the right to feel like that?   
What, his mom worked so hard to be happy, to make him happy, and he had to go and throw a tantrum every time she was late?

  
He wondered if she’d still love him, if he told her what happened to Connor Murphy.

Because of him.

  
He threw his jacket on the couch, taking off his shoes and leaving them by the door. Evan sighed, throwing himself on one of their armchairs and fighting off the guilt. The light flickered, just a little, but he paid it no mind, already busy calling Jared.

His family friend might’ve been callous but certainly he wouldn’t make fun of him. Or he convinced himself he wouldn’t. It was hard to say what was objective and what was a something he’d imagined.

  
It took a few rings before Jared answered.

  
_“Hey, Acorn.”_ His amusement was clear, _“How did the dinner go, huh?”_

  
“Badly,” Evan groaned, “Well no, not really it was fine or it would’ve been fine if I hadn’t been lying and just-“

  
_“Stop. Breathe. Repeat. I didn’t understand a goddamn thing you just said.”_

  
“Sorry-sorry. Huh. The Murphys are nice.” He grimaced “I just... don’t-don’t like lying to them.”

  
_“Then why are you lying in the first place?”_ Jared let out a disbelieving laugh.

  
“Well-well. I. Um. I already said Connor was my friend I can’t just-just. Take it back. Can I?” He was almost hopeful, maybe Jared would come up with a solution. That was plausible, wasn’t it?

  
_“No shit, Sherlock. Why are you even talking to me about this anyway?”_

  
“You’re my only friend. Um. Family friend.”

  
_“Oh my God.”_

  
He’d closed the call in his face. Well. Okay. Evan could deal with it alone. Certainly. As if he weren’t an anxious, depressed, suicidal teenager left alone with his – mostly negative – thoughts.  
The lamp to his right flickered much like the light had before, once, three times now, turning off suddenly only to turn on again in angry bursts of light.  
He stared for a few moments, feeling as though he were being judged.

**2.**

Alana was running. She didn’t know from what, not really, but she could feel it behind her. Her legs ached, feet hurting. Not for the first time she wondered why she was barefoot. Oddly enough, that was the detail that stood out to her.

  
Alana despised walking barefoot ever since she’d caught a shard of glass under her foot when she was seven.

  
She could feel the creature’s breath on her neck, far too close for comfort.

  
She woke up just as its teeth closed on her.

  
The first thing she realised was that she was terribly sweaty.

  
She could hear the soft sound of rain against her glass and it was comforting in its familiarity. There had been no rain in her dream. No winds or sun or anything that would make it real.

  
She breathed in deeply, relaxing and letting the tension fade slowly. 

  
“Okay. Okay. I’m okay.” She murmured, relieved.  
Well, there was no point in going to sleep after that. Especially since her alarm showed a red 6:00 am. She slipped out of bed quietly, making sure she wouldn’t wake up her fathers, and slowly walked down the stairs, checking on her parents room in the meantime.

  
Papa was sleeping, sprawled on their bed. Dad was absent. He hadn’t come home the previous night. She’d hoped he would be there when she woke up. 

  
It was hard to not fall into suspicion, without the reminder of his gentleness and corny jokes. Hard to remind herself to just trust her father. 

  
She hated it. She felt like a traitor, like some kind of _monster._

  
_What kind of daughter doubts her father so easily when he’d never been anything but loving with her?_

  
What kind of daughter indeed.  
She crept down the stairs, holding her breath. The study was there, door ajar: he’d left in a hurry, trusting them not to go looking in his private affairs. Trusting _Alana_.

  
She swallowed and entered, flicking on the light and walking quickly towards the desk: the same mess of papers, the same blacked out words. Nothing new, nothing alarming. Nothing to justify her reaction. She sighed, relieved and guilty, and walked back upstairs feeling lighter.

In the bedroom down the hall, she could just barely make out the sounds that signalled her Papa was awake, yawning and padded feet on the hardwood floor. He passed her with a grumbled ‘good mornin’ and kissed her forehead before going to the kitchen.

  
Alana prepared herself for school, humming softly, and tidying up her supplies, already mentally running through her classes and clubs. It was only when she went to grab breakfast that she realized it wouldn’t be a normal school day.

  
“Lana, your dad just called me with some news and I want to make sure you’re prepared, alright?” her papa said, green eyes shining with worry.

  
“Uh-I. Alright?”

  
“One of your classmates is,” he put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing, “missing. Do you know a Connor Murphy?”

  
_...one of those things is definitely out..._

  
_...I want to know what everyone’s doing all the time in this goddamn town..._

  
_...if someone’s missing, you tell me..._

  
Alana felt vaguely sick.

**3.**

Connor had run for his life, that night, when he’d felt himself slip down, down and up again. He’d looked around only to find the world had been twisted in an horrendous, Halloween-like copy of reality and he hadn’t paid it any mind, still busy running from whatever had been chasing him in the park.

The entrance was far behind him when he stopped to breathe, hidden behind the crumbling wall of a building he vaguely recognized as the public library he used to go to during middle school. 

  
“What the fuck, what the fuck, _what the fuck._ ” He murmured, still gasping for air and clutching his chest.

  
He would’ve laughed at the action, just an hour before.

  
But.

  
What the actual fuck was that thing? Where the hell was he?

_Trust him, to fall right into a demented version of Wonderland_.

  
Was he high?

  
_Typical_ , Larry would’ve said, _so high he can’t even remember he’d smoked in the first place._

  
Except. He hadn’t been high. Because Connor was a wreck but he was also anxious and paranoid and he’d never get high in a public park. Nope, to Larry’s immense displeasure, Connor did most of his smoking inside the house.

  
He could hear, getting fainter by the second, a combination of hissing and clicking noises, the same that had been right on his ass just ten minutes before. When he couldn’t hear them anymore, he let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and let himself relax for a couple of seconds.

  
Now, where to?

  
Apartments surrounded the area around him but they all looked like they were falling apart and he’d watched enough horror movies to know not to fuck himself up by going too high up. 

  
There were some houses, though, tiny and almost hidden by the overgrown plants. One of them, in particular, looked intact enough to shield him from an eventual return of that... _thing_.

He walked towards the house, moving from wall to wall to stay hidden.   
There was a sickly smell there, wherever it was, and everything seemed to echo with phantom voices. He shuddered and quickened his pace, the house becoming more and more inviting with every step he took, letting himself fall to the ground exhaustedly once he was inside.

  
He’d curled up in a corner, shivering, when he heard his name.

  
“...The Murphys are nice-“

  
_What?_

  
He looked up, in direction of a dusty sofa, where the voice seemed to be coming from. 

  
_Was that voice familiar?_

  
“... I. Um. I already said Connor was my friend I can’t just-just. Take it back.”

  
_He’d told them what?_

  
His hands curled into fists and he clenched his jaw. He knew that stutter and its owner and he didn’t like the implications of what he was hearing.

  
_Evan Hansen told my parents we were friends. What the actual fuck._

  
He got up, getting closer to the voice to hear better.

  
“You’re my only friend. Um. Family friend.”

  
And wasn’t _that_ pathetic.

  
He moved a hand as if he were going to hit him, or the air where he thought Hansen was anyway, when the lamp flickered as if it were following his movement. He tried again, using his anger to back his shaking hands.

  
The light followed.

  
It wasn’t like he had anything to do, besides fearing for his life.

  
_Very well, then. It’s on, you lying asshole._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! Hope you like this chapter! As always, please let me know if I made any errors so I can fix them. Come chat on tumblr: five-by-seven

**Author's Note:**

> So here it is! The Stranger Things AU no one asked for! The events will mix DEH canon with Stranger Things elements, though it's not necessary to have watched the series. Be patient, please, I write very slowly. And tell me if you find any mistakes, I'm trying my best to catch them but I might have missed some!  
> Come chat with me on Tumblr: five-by-seven


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